He doesn't think to wonder whyThe secretaries pout and preen like cheap tarts in a red light streetBut all he ever thinks to do is watch

And every single meeting with his so called superiorIs a humiliating kick in the crotchMany miles awaySomething crawls to the surface

Of a dark Scottish lochAnother working day has endedOnly the rush hour hell to facePacked like lemmings into shiny metal boxes

Contestants in a suicidal raceDaddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distanceHe knows that something somewhere has to breakHe sees the family home now looming in his headlights

The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs acheMany miles awayThere's a shadow on the doorOf a cottage on the shoreOf a dark Scottish lakeMany miles away...Many miles away...Many miles away...Many miles away...Many miles away...